Seven Into The Wind
by Livi2Jack
Summary: When a stagecoach wreck on another planet leaves Sam and Jack stranded with five other passengers 50 miles from help, they have to figure out if the man accused of murder did it or was it one of the others? X-over with Bonanza for the Wild West Characters


**Seven into the Wind**

**By Livi2Jack**

**Summary: **When a stagecoach wreck on another planet leaves Sam and Jack stranded with five other passengers 50 miles from help, they have to figure out if the man accused of murder did it or was it one of the others?

**Rating:** Teen for mild violence

**Genre:** Murder Mystery, Crossover between Bonanza and Stargate

**Stargate Characters:** Jack O'Neill and Samantha Carter

**BonanzaCharacters:** Little Joe Cartwright and Hoss Cartwright; Secondary Characters: Roberto De Sorta, Howard Benson, Nora Whitley, and Lori Hayden from the episode. Based loosely on the Bonanza episode: Five Into The Wind. If you don't know the classic TV show, Bonanza, just treat the characters as Old West extras. YouTube has many fine Bonanza episodes uploaded if you are interested.

**Category:** Gen, What Happened Instead (WHI)

**Season:** Four for both Bonanza and Stargate

**Author's Note:** Not every detail is the same as the Bonanza episode "Five Into The Wind," one of my favorite episodes. I took license to embellish and fill in as well as alter some points. The plot is very similar until the WHI (What Happened Instead) diverges. No nitpicking please to say it wasn't like that in the episode. I know. Jack and Sam weren't there among other things.

**Disclaimer:** Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Sony/MGM. No copyright infringement is intended for either Stargate or Bonanza. Bonanza and its characters are the property of David Dortort and Paramount. This story is written for fun, not profit. No re-posting without the author's permission.

* * *

_**Now WHI: Seven Into The Wind**_

Samantha Carter sat on a dusty stagecoach in a long hoop skirt with crinoline  
petticoats cursing her luck. If the dress was awful, the other passengers smelled  
worse. None had bathed in days. At least, she had bathed and used deodorant.  
It only made the others unbearable, well except for one, the cute one sitting on  
the floor of the coach stretching his long legs across the width of the cabin, or  
whatever one called the inside of a stagecoach. He had bathed sometime in the  
last moments before being ensconced with the rest of the unwashed humanity  
that left their fetid sweat stains on the walls and upholstery, such as it was. The  
one on the floor had real charm, his bushy brown curls and green eyes framed his  
cherubic face and happy go lucky smile. He was a sociable fellow making conversation  
and trying to flirt with the women. One unremarkable young lady was a mousy sort,  
the picture of pure prissiness. The other was a flaming redhead who knew a bit too  
much for a woman that young. It was in her eyes and her manner. She was sharp and  
intelligent, quick witted and a bit bawdy without crossing the line. Sam liked her for her  
wit, cheerful disposition, and bawdiness. All the priss in the women of this planet was  
tiresome. For the moment, Miss Lori was a refreshing change. She bantered with the  
big man opposite her and gave crooked half-smile at his poor conversation. Sam tried  
to stay out of it, looking out the window as much for the anonymity as the better smell.  
The long legged Cutie Pie was at her feet. He was trying to engage her, which amused  
her no end.

"Aw c'mon, cat got your tongue?" Cutie Pie joked at her. "What's your name?"

"Samantha Carter, and yours would be?"

"Joe Cartwright ma'am," he grinned having accomplished his objective to make  
her speak."Going all the way to Virginia City,ma'am?"

"Oh farther I think." She wasn't interested in discussing herself with strangers.  
Uncomfortable, Sam was feeling the heat and the dust. Joe offered her his canteen,  
which she accepted to be nice, dousing her handkerchief with it and dabbing her  
face, while surreptitiously wiping the lip before she drank from it. Not to be out done,  
the obnoxious big man at the opposite end of the other bench offered to share his  
snack of jerky with the other passengers.

"No thanks, this primitive way of eating is difficult to get used to," refused the  
Sicilian baron's son, Roberto.

"Where are you from?" Lori asked nicely.

"I am from Palermo. My father the baron suggested that I come to America to  
try and find my fortune."

"Oh, don't you inherit from your father?"

"No, Signore, I am the younger son and get nothing…so…." He shrugged.

Benson the overbearing and crude fur trader smirked as Roberto looked lustily  
at Lori and remarked, "I bet you've never seen women as pretty as the ones  
we've got here." It was a compliment the redhead acknowledged with a nod  
in his direction.

"I believe I'll accept your jerky, Mr. Benson." She got a big smile and the sack  
handed to her.

"This jerky has saved my life many times," Benson told the effete foreigner,  
offering it to Miss Whitley who sniffed her refusal and offered it to Sam.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Buffalo?"

"Beef."

"Interesting," Sam bit in not recognizing the taste. "Thank you kindly." She  
bit in, knowing it would make her thirsty later, but why start a ruckus.

"What's your business, Mr. O'Neill?" Benson asked the other man to be gregarious  
and pass the time.

"I'm a bartender, looking for a job in San Francisco." The older silver haired man  
had a steely look in his deep-set dark brown eyes. He seemed uninterested but  
his eyes missed nothing. Benson gave him a strange look but said nothing more to him.

"And you son?"

"Oh me, I'm just a cowboy," Joe said affably, not wanting to discuss his personal  
business or that he was the youngest son of the richest man in Nevada. Benson  
paid him no more mind and turned his attention back to the redhead, appraising  
her like prime stock on the hoof.

"That driver is trying to kill us," whined Miss Whitley.

The rocking motion was making her sick. The redhead agreed he was hitting every  
rut. After another big rocking jolt, the men began to think something was wrong.  
As the youngest man there, Joe climbed out through the window and up to the top  
of the coach to see about the driver, discovering the man had had a heart attack  
and was dead. Before Joe could get control with the reins and slow the coach, the  
horses plunged it over a few big boulders too fast in the turn and crashed it. Joe  
fell off on the driver, scraping his hand. O'Neill hit his head badly. The redhead  
scrapped her leg. Otherwise, everyone could still function, except Sam who was  
unconscious. Miss Whitley would not let the others handle another lady, so she  
loosened Sam's corset enough to let her breathe better and doused her with a  
wet handkerchief while the men took stock of the situation.

It was bleak in more ways than one. These two members of SG-1 had to get back  
to the Stargate after finding the missing DHD crystal to make it work so they could  
go home. Before coming, the M.A.L.P. robotic probe showed a DHD, necessary to  
input the coordinates for a successful return. Unable to show the inside of the device,  
the team found upon arrival that it was missing pieces, starting a treasure hunt  
across a continent at the level of 1860 technology development. When they showed  
up someone had shot M.A.L.P and fled, making it impossible to contact home and say  
what happened. The luggage and supplies cushioned the effort by providing items to  
trade and sell for local currency. However, for the past six weeks, they were stuck on  
this lame ass planet, running around searching for parts, with Sam dragging a hoop skirt  
around to boot. Before the mission departed the base, Daniel insisted they blend in to  
do reconnaissance. Considering the immense naquadah readings the U.A.V. survey drone  
discovered, Daniel convinced the General that they needed period costumes so as not to  
alarm the populace. To their dismay, Sam's dresses came out too upper class and expensive  
by local standards, which no one knew before they arrived. As a result, Sam cursed Daniel  
every time she made a run to the outhouse, disputing the need for the big bulky dress and  
all those stiff petticoats. Colonel O'Neill had to order her to continue to wear them, since  
it did prove an advantage opening doors at the right levels. Besides, the men thought she  
looked great. Now they had a bigger problem than long skirts, hair extensions, and fancy  
waistcoats. They were stranded in the desert with little water and nearly no food with a  
long road trip ahead.

"The horses ran off. We aren't going to catch them," Benson growled."Otherwise one of us  
could ride for help."

"Weather is getting bad," O'Neill said, noting the clouds on the horizon. The others looked.  
It was a dust storm. Exposed, they were out in the scrub lands east of the Carson Valley  
where only greasewood and cactus had purchase on the alkali sand.

"We have to find cover and quickly," Benson took over. "Leave that stuff," he told the  
Italian brusquely.

"Who put you in charge?" Roberto demanded.

"Look I know this country. So that puts me in charge." He dared the others to object  
but Roberto was not convinced. "I've been tramping around this country for 20 years.  
I know every watering hole around here. I'll get you to Owl's Point."

"You would rather listen to him," Joe told Roberto. "He knows what he's talking about."  
Joe backed up Benson who acknowledged with a nod of assurance.

"We could cut through the arroyo over there," Benson urged, after getting his bearings.  
Pointing to the arroyo, he explained, "It would save a day."

"How far is Owl's Point?"

"It's a good fifty miles," Joe answered.

"Fifty!" Miss Whitley exclaimed.

"Yeah, and it's pretty rough country, too," Benson added. "I've seen worse, but not much  
worse country. It's dry as a bone. Well, if we are going to do this, we better get going."

"A day will mean a lot to the women," Joe agreed. "Okay, take the canteens and that jerky.  
If you have a warm coat or blanket, take it. Nights get cold here. Leave the rest."

"Why can't we just wait here?" demanded Miss Whitley.

"Because we could wait two weeks before someone comes along," Joe told her flatly. "We  
haven't enough food or water to last that long."

"I have some valuable heirlooms in my luggage." Roberto snarled, reaching for his bag.

"Suit yourself," O'Neill said doubtfully. "Things like that get mighty heavy after a few hours  
of walking."

"Let's get moving. We only have about an hour of light left and we need to find cover," Joe  
urged them. He went to find his pistol and hat. Miss Whitely managed to rouse Sam enough  
to sit her up. Once Sam's vision cleared, Jack was there to explain things.

"Thank you, sir," Sam said trying to stand. Jack helped her up to make sure she could walk  
before turning his attention to the rest. Sam gathered up her pack, unloading the odds and  
ends; but keeping the money, a Swiss Army Knife, and the emergency medicines she still had  
left. Loading her pockets, she turned to join the group.

_My day just gets betterand better._

_

* * *

_

Between some tall rocks against a cliff face to break the wind, they  
made camp the first night. Unaccustomed to such strenuous walking,  
people were out of sorts, snapping at one another. Benson and Whitley  
had a scene, making it obvious they knew each other well. He told her  
he was sick of looking at her and to leave him be. With that, he  
stomped off. Hearing the ugly exchange between a man and a lady, the  
Italian made an off hand remark that the food was as unappetizing as  
the people in this nasty country, lamenting if only his father the  
baron could see him reduced to eating scraps in the dust with savages.  
Benson was in no mood for the poke at his honor and authority.

"In this country, you'll find it wise to be careful what you say to  
folks, or you might just get your tongue cut out of your head."

Squatting ominously close to the man's face, he waved the knife Joe  
lent him before stalking off. O'Neill watched the scene warily and  
keeping his mouth shut moved off to the edge of the gathering, keeping  
an eye out for hostiles. Checking on each of the women, Joe noticed  
Lori was tending her leg and offered to help with the bandage. He  
tried some light conversation only to learn she had little self-esteem.

"Where are you traveling, ma'am?"

"Oh one saloon or another, I sing for my supper, as the saying goes. I  
guess that's all I'm good for."

"Aw you know better than that."

"Where are you going, Mr. Cartwright?"

"We have a ranch near Virginia City."

"We, so let me guess, little boys or girls or both?"

"I'm not married, ma'am. 'We' is my father and brothers."

"Oh so I do have a prospect," she joked without really joking. It was  
almost an automatic response to make a come on to a handsome young  
man. Recognizing it for what it was, Joe smiled and moved on to Sam.

"How are you doing, ma'am?"

"Me, oh I'll be fine. Fifty miles, piece of cake," she tried to joke,  
but had a terrible headache. Joe noticed she was a little disoriented.

"I think you have a concussion, ma'am. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes… I think you may be right." She sank to the ground with her back  
against a boulder. "I should sit up and not fall asleep tonight. Right?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered. "I'll sit with you and make sure the men who  
stand watch also do."

"Thank you, sir." She closed her eyes. "I'll take first watch. I  
couldn't sleep right now anyway."

"Oh no ma'am," Joe said surprised. "There are four men here. We'll  
look out for you."

"I'm capable."

"Yes ma'am, normally I'm sure you are," he said gently. "Tonight  
though, you're the most injured." He went to speak to Benson to tell  
him to pay attention to Sam on his watch and why. Benson nodded, not  
interested in Sam particularly. She was much too high class for his  
tastes, even if she was much more beautiful than Lori was and O'Neill  
had some claim on her. Joe let Roberto and O'Neill know about Sam's  
head injury and to make sure on their watch she didn't lie down or  
fall asleep. O'Neill nodded wordlessly, impressed by the young man's  
way with people and genuine concern. Roberto came to sit with Sam a  
few minutes later, taking the first watch.

"Signora," he bowed politely, knowing he addressed a lady.

Grazie signore e una sera piacevole a voi.

"Parlate la mia lingua? Ciò è meravigliosa! Roberto exclaimed in  
surprise that she spoke his language. "At last, a cultured person in  
this wasteland."

"You are too kind, sir," Sam replied, getting embarrassed that the  
rest were staring at her.

"You an Eye-talian ma'am?" Benson asked with some deprecation.

"No sir, I do speak a few words."

"Me I've learned some Shoshone and some Paiute. It helps in dealing  
with the Indians and keeping them happy when they trade with me for  
their furs."

"Is that good business?" Roberto asked disinterestedly. Indians were  
beneath his notice, really, but he did need to make amends for his  
remark earlier.

"Why sure it is," Benson boomed. "Right now, I've got $5,000 from  
selling off my last season's furs. Yes, sir, It's a fine business." He  
swaggered. "Looks like I found my fortune." He laughed.

"Have you ever been to Palermo?" Roberto said to ignore Benson's  
rudeness and claim the lady's attention, making the point Benson  
didn't belong in their company.

"Oh yes, all over Sicily and Italy, too," she answered readily. She  
described the town perfectly and the interiors of the churches to  
Roberto's delight and Whitley's jealousy, which Lori found very  
amusing. Little Joe found it delightful, knowing the Italian Rossi  
family, who grew grapes not far from the Ponderosa.

"Ma'am, you sound just like Mrs. Rossi. They live near us and make  
wine." He giggled his cackle. "Boy would she be happy to talk to you."

"You are very kind to complement my poor efforts, sir."

"You've been to Europe, Miss Carter?" Lori gushed. Sam nodded. "I  
would give anything to see Paris."

"Paris is a great city," Roberto told her, not to be outdone. "I went  
there with my father when I was sixteen. He wanted us to see what real  
culture and civilization was like."

"My brother Hoss dreams of going. He's crazy for French food… or any  
food. He's a big guy and a big appetite." Joe joked to lighten the mood.

"I'll just bet you've been to Paris Miss Carter," Miss Whitley jabbed  
with a bit of venom.

"Why yes, I have." Sam answered vaguely. Her head was throbbing.

"Must be nice for some people to have that much money to throw away on  
going places they don't belong when there's people here they could  
help," Miss Whitley sniped.

"Oh it's no different than wanting to go to San Francisco, ma'am," Joe  
said more kindly to correct her. "It's just a little farther," he  
smiled at Sam. To Nora Whitley he added a little firmly, "Best you get  
some sleep, ma'am, we have a long walk tomorrow."

Dismissed, Miss Whitley took the hint because she was exhausted. Lori  
decided to be smart and do the same. That left Sam with the four men.  
Nora noticed and huffed. Benson told her to shut up and go to sleep.  
He wasn't interested in Sam other than as some minor curiosity,  
knowing she was way out of reach, especially with O'Neill close by.  
Benson noticed their familiar looks and signals. Organizing the watch  
as the commander of the expedition, he told Joe he'd take last watch.  
Joe said he'd take second if Roberto would start, realizing that  
Roberto wanted to talk to Sam a little. Glad for the chance to speak  
with someone cultured, he said sure. O'Neill offered to take third  
watch, which was all that was left anyway, and bedded down near Lori.  
In low whispers, Sam and Roberto chatted about Sicily to his delight.  
The time passed quickly until Joe took his watch, checking that Sam  
was still awake and sitting up. By the time Benson had last watch, Sam  
was still sitting up; but was asleep. Benson didn't care and let her.

* * *

For hours the next day, they trudged across the desolate landscape,  
finding the well-worn trail, hoping to find a way station. To their  
dismay, they discovered the station burned out. Apparently, Indians  
had raided it days before, leaving the dead bodies littering the front  
area. Jack immediately drew his pistol and went to check, telling the  
women to get down and wait. Joe made a flanking maneuver to cover him  
from the other side. Working in tandem, they checked the structure and  
what was left of the outbuildings. After Jack gave the all clear, the  
group moved forward to the shell of the adobe hut used to service the  
stage line. Inside it was a mess but had a serviceable roof and four  
walls standing, plus a fireplace with pots and a few meager supplies.

"Why would they do this?" Roberto marveled in disgust.

"For the horses, Baron," Benson informed him, as if to a child.  
Snorting, he went with Joe to see to the well. It had another dead  
body in it so there was no way to drink from it.

"Mr. Cartwright, a moment," Sam tugged at his sleeve. "They forgot the  
horse trough. If we can boil that water, it should be okay." Joe  
patted her arm in thanks. Jack went off to see what he could to  
establish a perimeter and make a threat assessment of their position.  
Letting Benson know they were going hunting, Jack and Joe went after  
whatever game they could to feed the group.

The women organized themselves to figure out some cooking, making the  
fire with loose boards and some chopped wood still there. One of the  
women found the root cellar and a sack of beans and salt pork. Another  
found some jars of canned fruit and a bit of flour in a tin that  
didn't get burnt. Things were looking up. Sam went to what had been  
the barn to see what could be gleaned for bedding and anything that  
could be useful in the debris. With some sense of triumph, she found  
oats in a barrel. There wasn't much straw but what there was could be  
brought in to soften the hard packed dirt floor of the station. With  
those supplies in hand, they set to cleaning up the interior enough to  
bed everyone down.

For dinner, the women assembled what place settings they could manage.  
The few cracked plates served as dishes. Someone found a few spoons to  
share around a table, which Sam decided she could fix. First, she  
rigged a spit for any game and an iron hook to hold the one cooking  
pot over the flames. With a piece of metal from the smoke house, she  
rigged a flue to help retain heat for the cold night coming. Benson  
watched in some admiration before going to stand watch outside.

A couple hours later, Jack and Joe came back with several jackrabbits  
to cook, handing them off to the women. Benson ordered Nora to clean  
and cook them. She refused. He wasn't taking mutiny from her and said  
something in a low whisper that made her jump to do it. Taking them  
outside, she proceeded to skin and clean them using Jack's big knife.  
Meanwhile, the men discussed the situation and agreed they didn't need  
to stand watch if the Indians took all there was. Besides, everyone  
was safer inside with a sturdy door and four walls. If the Indians did  
attack, they had enough ammunition to fend them off. Benson and Joe  
were impressed with Jack's pistol, never having seen one quite like  
it. Outside, they discussed weapons, horses, and other man subjects  
while the women made the meal and cleaned the place.

With the bucket Sam found, Lori went to draw some water for the beans  
and spent some moments talking to Nora, who was nearly done with the  
rabbits. When she was done, they got the spit and secured the meat  
with bits of rope Sam managed to scrounge up. Inside, Lori tended the  
rabbits on Sam's spit, handing choice bits to Joe for taste testing.  
She had the idea he was a prospect and the only one with any  
probability. Sam tried to fix whatever she could, including the table  
so they could eat after setting up boiling water for drinking in  
another pot she found strewn by the smoke house. The plates and few  
spoons, she scrubbed in the sand as the only grit available, not  
wanting to waste precious water. She'd had desert survival training  
and knew such things. Nora made the beans with the salt pork and the  
now boiled water from the trough. Smells of cooking made everyone's  
stomachs rumble in anticipation.

Sam spied Jack considering the horizon on one of her trips to find  
something useful. They exchanged looks to meet behind a large boulder  
behind the smokehouse.

"Sir, the rabbits are good, but I want to see if I can get some of  
those prickly pears out there. I also think we should get a cactus or  
three and try to render the water."

"Cactus you say."

"Yes, sir, we need the electrolytes after all that sweating everyone did."

"And how do you propose to pick cactus fruit?"

"Well, there is that war lance over there and a pole from the  
smokehouse. We use the lance to cut the cactus free, then stab them  
high and carry them back here on the pole. I can singe off the needles  
in the fire. Then we eat."

"It's a plan."

"How's your head, sir?"

"How's yours?"

"Right."

Together they marched off to hunt cactus pears, managing to snag a  
basket full and impale a few barrel cactus on the pole. It took less  
than an hour and by then it was dark.

Returning to the group, Carter went about the business of singing  
cactus and cactus pears. By the time she was done, the meat was ready  
and so were the beans. It was a veritable feast. Once everyone ate and  
the blood sugar rose, tensions abated. There was plenty left over for  
breakfast or at least to get them started.

After eating, some folks did lie down from the ordeal of the day.  
Restless, Lori went to get some air outside. Jack went to sweep the  
perimeter again and shoot some game for the morning if he could. Sam  
asked Joe to come let her look at his hand, which had an ad hoc  
bandage, dirty and bloody. Carefully, she unwrapped the dirty cloth  
and set it aside, taking out her pocketknife and shaking it off, pried  
off a little bit of debris embedded with the dried blood. Watching her  
work with such certainty, Joe was fascinated. With her tweezers from  
the knife, she pulled a cactus splinter out and some other small spiny  
thing that gave him immediate relief.

"A few cuts and a big contusion here, but no bones seem to be broken."  
She applied some iodine obtained from a doctor in the last town, which  
she diluted on a wet rag. Ripping her petticoat for a clean piece of  
fabric, she wrapped the hand again. "Keep it dry and let me have a  
look tomorrow night."

Joe smiled his thanks, not sure what to make of her. He studied the  
utility knife curiously before handing it back. She replaced it with  
her other things and threw the dirty bandage in the fire. Joe took her  
hand and examined it. She had bruises and cuts too.

"Why not do it for yourself?"

"You are in worse shape, Mr. Cartwright."

"Call me Little Joe, ma'am."

"You aren't so little."

"Well, that's only because my brother Hoss is so big." He smiled his  
most charming smile and gave a boyish grin for good measure. His smile  
was so infectious she couldn't help but smile back. "There, you  
smiled." He said softly. "I was wondering when you would."

"I keep it under wraps so don't tell on me?" She grinned back. "Let  
them think I'm a dour old bat." She winked. He kissed her hand, like a  
gentleman.

"You aren't so old and you are very beautiful."

"Flatterer," she said softly. "Oh don't stop…." They laughed until he  
saw Roberto sneaking the canteen again.

"Hey, no more water," he shouted at Roberto.

"I am getting a little sick and tired of you two commanders giving me  
orders." He raised the canteen. Joe grabbed it away.

"Now there are four canteens and seven people. We have to ration the  
water.

"He's right," Benson said firmly. "The Baron over there would drink  
all the water."

"I told you I am not the Baron De Sorta. That's my father."

"Then what do we call the son of a baron?"

"Signore is fine, my brother will inherit the title."

"Oh and what do you get?"

"Nothing, I will make my own way."

"I saw you out there today. If that's how you are going to do it, you  
wouldn't last ten hours alone." Benson snorted in disgust.

"How to get rich and hurt people; that's what you and my father are  
all about. He was impossible!"

"Well given the choice between you and your father… I'll pick your  
father any day."

Joe and Sam watched the ill humored jousting with bored irritation. It  
was the recipe for getting someone killed.

"I don't get it, Carter," Jack complained when they were in the corner  
talking quietly.

"We know that planets can be terra formed like the one with the  
weather machine." She waited for him to nod. "We also know that the  
Goa'uld like to seed humans all over the Galaxy. We also know from the  
Antarctic Gate that they have had a secondary access to Earth while  
the Giza Gate was still buried. We also know they can bring a Gate on  
a ship and use it near a planet."

"And so therefore, what?"

"We know from the planet where the Unas was taking victims to Sokar  
that the Goa'uld have been to Earth in the last thousand years. Those  
people were medieval Christian."

"Oy, that place where they thought we were demons." Jack rubbed his  
eyes. "Remind me to hurt Daniel real bad if he wants to help people  
like that again."

Sam ignored the remark because it would never happen. "Well sir, why  
wouldn't the Goa'uld take people from the Old Wild West and terra form  
a planet? Pelops experimented. Some other Goa'uld must have as well."

"So these folks think they are living in the Wild West in America  
circa 1860?"

"Right, only instead of the Comstock Lode producing only silver and  
the usual set of metals, this place has the mother lode of naquadah  
under their Virginia City."

"So what are they doing with the naquadah?"

"Nothing, they don't know what it is. They dump it as muck just  
clogging up their mining equipment." Carter launched into the  
interminable explanation.

"CARTER! Cut to it!"

"We figure to engage in trade once we make first contact."

"Daniel says that might not be a good idea."

"Yes, well, the Pentagon has experts ready to make a secondary  
cultural assessment."

"They're on the brink of Civil War, Carter. We show up and boom!"

"Or maybe we can prevent it, sir," she urged.

"Let the geeks figure that out. We came in peace. I want to go home in  
one …piece."

"I thought you two knew each other. If you need a room…take it  
outside," Benson sneered.

Jack stood up to his full height, calmly regarding Benson. His command  
persona registered with the bully. Benson was about to shoot off his  
mouth, but decided against it, stomping out. Looking for someone to  
harass, he found Lori at the broken down wood fence. He tried to come  
on to her but she was not interested.

"Aw come on Lori, we understand each other. You could take me in hand  
and make something of me," He leered before grabbing her. She swung  
and slapped him. That's when he really grabbed her lifting her off the  
ground, smashing his lips over her mouth. She struggled and kicked,  
squealing. Joe heard it and went out running. Seeing the obvious, he  
ordered Benson to release Lori. Then he punched the older man in the  
mouth sending him backwards over the fence rails. Looking for a fight,  
Benson was a brutal man, who wasn't going to let it go in his  
frustration to …do…something. He picked up a large section of railing  
and held it like a baseball bat; but Joe had already drawn on him.

"I buried one man this week. You'd just die of a real bad case of slow."

Benson knew when he'd been outplayed. To make it less of a loss, he  
laughed as if it were a big joke and tossed the wood aside. Catching  
Jack's appearance in the background, he saw that weapon leveled at him  
too. Wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, he judged  
himself outnumbered, and correctly so. With a sneer for bravado's sake,  
he went, limping inside to make more trouble swinging his authority  
around like the club he'd tossed away at the barrel end of a gun. Jack  
blew out his cheeks saying nothing, noting Joe would handle Lori and  
went back to checking the grounds. When Joe and Lori followed Benson  
inside, he turned to land a verbal punch.

"I didn't expect you two back so soon. Did you learn anything about  
women, kid?" He emphasized 'kid' to keep the upper hand.

"You have a big mouth, Benson."

"I'm just trying to give you the benefit of my long experience of  
living, you young pup."

"Living with what?" Lori shot back. "Animals?"

""Hey, living with animals can teach you a lot. They can teach you  
that things aren't what they seem to be."

O'Neill walked in shutting the door and checking it was firmly latched  
before moving over to the corner where he had a view of each person.  
Sipping coffee, he grimaced in distaste and set down the cup. Benson  
cast a look at O'Neill, not sure what to make of him and decided it  
wasn't important. The man rarely said anything, simply watching,  
letting Benson run the show although Benson had the feeling there was  
much more to it.

To make the point that he, Howard Benson was in charge, he made  
himself the center of everyone's attention, by announcing, "Yes,  
animals teach lessons like being observant." Benson wandered over to  
Nora Whitley. "Take Nora here. She looks like a mouse, doesn't she?"  
Nora was offended until Benson rested his big paw on her shoulder,  
somewhat affectionately. She responded with an adoring look. "Well  
she's not." He paused before delivering his verbal slap. "She's  
nothing." Nora withered.

He saw Sam sniff with disdain, but continued, since any reaction was a  
reaction to HIM. He liked being the center of attention, controlling  
other people and if he got a reaction; it was because he incited it.  
That was another form of control. Howard Benson liked to be in  
control…a lot.

"There are more congenial ways to have a conversation, Mr. Benson,"  
Sam corrected him gently.

"Well ma'am, I just see beneath people. That's all." He said  
expansively, waxing warm to his subject. "I'll bet beneath all that  
la-de-da, Roberto is all talk, not a real man in the crunch. Few  
people fool me." Everyone looked at Roberto to see his reaction. He  
was surprised anyone would be so rude.

"And what about Mr. O'Neill?" Lori goaded him.

"I'm just a bartender on the way to San Francisco, Miss Hayden."

"No, you're not a bartender, O'Neill," Benson said swiftly, jabbing a  
thick forefinger at the tall Air Force Colonel. Taking a breath and  
cagily regarding the lean older man, he said importantly, "I don't  
know what you are, but you are NOT a bartender."

"I'll say one thing for you, Benson," Joe murmured from under his hat  
as he sat on the floor resting. "You've got a lot of opinions."

"Yeah, I've got a lot of opinions about a lot of things and a lot of  
people. Now you take Miss Samantha over there. She's a real high-class  
lady, but she's something else too. She's too educated, too  
sophisticated to be running around out here." He walked up to Sam.  
"Who are you really? And what are you doing way out here with a bunch  
of ignorant backwards people like us?"

"Surely, it must be as you say, sir," Sam said ruefully with slight  
edge, "A man with your perspicacity is to be commended."

"Listen to that," Benson jabbed a finger at Sam, addressing the others  
with a big grin. "She uses ten dollar words to politely put me in my  
place without seeming to do it. Now THAT'S a lady." He shook his head.  
"Miss Samantha can forage like an Indian and build a spit in a hundred  
dollar dress, eating jerky and beans as if sitting down to dinner with  
royalty instead of common folk like us, treating us like her equals,  
but we know better, don't we Nora?" He patted Nora's shoulder, causing  
her to look up at him thinking he was on her side, but he continued to  
walk around the room so all eyes were on him. "Nora here thinks she's  
a lady. She puts on airs, fussing to prove she has manners." He walked  
back to Nora and pointed at Sam. "Well take a good look Nora dear. You  
will never be a lady." He smirked and turned his full back to Nora to  
face Sam. "All of them I have a good idea what to do about. You,  
sister," he huffed at Sam, "You are completely out of place."

"With all your opinions, do you have an opinion about yourself?" Joe  
asked with deceptive charm.

"Me? Why sure I do." He rubbed his three-day growth of whiskers. "Let  
me tell you about Howard Benson. He never lies and he'll kill if he's  
interfered with." Checking to see if they all bought it, he was  
satisfied and swaggered, until he caught O'Neill's hard gaze.

From under his hat, Joe looked up slowly and said evenly, "If you are  
through giving your opinions, I suggest you go to sleep."

At that, Benson folded his arms and snorted derisively, but moved off  
and did lie down to sleep. Nora shot looks of hatred at Sam before  
bedding down herself, next to Roberto. They exchanged whispered  
conversation lying next to one another. In deference to that budding  
relationship, Sam decided to sleep next to Joe across from O'Neill to  
cover both sides of the room if need be. With little sleep the night  
before, she was exhausted and slept soundly. Having a door to close  
and four walls, no one kept watch during the night. In the morning,  
Joe found a rude surprise. After stretching by the fireplace, getting  
the kinks out of his back and neck, he realized someone had stabbed  
Benson with the knife he'd lent Benson. As he knelt to investigate,  
Nora screamed her head off. Waking up to the screams, the rest saw him  
squatting there holding the bloody knife. From that point, it was  
hysteria.

"You all heard them fight last night," Roberto shouted.

"We heard you two go at it as well," Lori argued. "He mocked the great  
baron's son. Maybe you did it."

"No, he didn't do it," Joe said, sharply with contempt at Roberto.  
"Benson was right. He doesn't have the guts. So who here is responsible."

"Are you saying it is one of us?" Nora was appalled.

"I don't think anyone snuck in here last night just to knife him," Joe  
said sarcastically.

"You did it!" Roberto pointed and shouted. "It's your knife!"

"Yes, it is my knife and everyone saw me give it to him two nights  
ago. So that proves nothing."

"You have it in your hand, all bloody, and were seen squatting over  
the body. That's enough proof for me!" Roberto shouted.

"Yes, yes, I saw you holding it over him!" Nora said in terror.

"I did not kill him. Why would I?"

"The money is gone!" Lori said after searching the body. Nora rushed  
over to check for herself.

"Of course it is," muttered O'Neill.

Looking from across the room, his dark intelligent eyes met Sam's. He  
knew she was ready, too.

"Search the place," Joe commanded. "It's got to be here. The one who  
has it, has some explaining to do."

"Always giving orders," Roberto shrieked. "You wanted to command this  
whole time. You baited him and fought with him!" Roberto shouted. Joe  
turned to the rest to reason with them when Roberto knocked him over  
the head in an act of manhood. "Tie him up. We'll deal with him  
later," he said taking charge finally. Nothing for it, Lori and Nora  
hurried to find rope and tie Joe up. "My apologies, Signora," Roberto  
said to Sam who stood there unsure what to do about the situation and  
stay incognito. "No lady should have to see that much less lie in the  
dirt to sleep. We are among savages!" He rattled off every thing he  
thought about the situation in rapid fire Italian, holding a derringer  
on Joe, lest he awaken and try something.

"I think you are mistaken, Signore Roberto," Sam said more carefully.  
"I don't think he did it."

"Why not?" Nora demanded indignantly as the others returned with a bit  
of rope from the remains of the barn. "You were in cahoots with him. I  
saw you talking sweet talk to him."

"No more than you did with Roberto last night, and probably less. I  
bandaged his hand. That is all."

She cocked her head at Nora considering her, then walked outside to  
perform her morning's ablutions and think it through. She had a  
powerful headache from the dust and high dry desert air. In light of  
these developments, she needed her wits about her. There was no way  
Little Joe Cartwright killed that man, since it made no sense at all.  
How to prove it would be problematic, but identifying the killer would  
be more dangerous.

"Penny for your thoughts," Lori said coming out to wash up too. She  
tried to smile as she stepped up to the horse trough. Sam turned to  
consider Lori as well. "Benson was right. You are out of place." She  
took a handful of water to clean her face. "The way I figure it, you  
are the only person here," she smiled a self-deprecating smile, "who  
really had no reason to kill Benson. You don't need his $5,000."

Sam cocked an eyebrow at Lori but said nothing, just giving a  
questioning expression.

"Just look at you, a hundred dollar dress," she eyed it more closely.  
"More than two hundred I'll bet," she snorted, "I know clothing.  
That's worth more than most folks can make in year."

She studied Sam from under her lashes. Lori knew the price of most  
things and the value of nothing. Washing her arms, Lori continued her  
soliloquy.

"I've seen lots of men who loved trouble, like Benson, a bully not  
afraid of anyone until he gets pushed back a little. Oh they always  
try and try again, but ..." She looked aside in a feral remembrance.  
"He never once tried anything with you. He wanted each of us to know  
he was boss. Not you, you… you scared him. A man like that doesn't  
scare easy." Sam just listened, trying to get the sense of Lori. "Guys  
like him don't stay scared because in the end, they are just too dumb  
to know when to quit." Lori quickly smiled to take the edge off her  
words, looking away and snorting a chuckle. "Listen to me go on." She  
laughed, strands of red hair blowing in the breeze. "Like I could tell  
a high class lady anything about such things so she would understand,"  
Lori gave a sidelong calculating look at Sam. "But you do don't you?"

She glanced sideways, making a sensual moue with her lips and toss of  
her head at Sam, looking for a chink in the armor. Sam returned her  
look with a full eye-to-eye contact stare, in her best officer's  
command manner, in control, letting a subordinate know she was a  
subordinate. Sam unnerved Lori completely to the point she made a  
mumbled excuse and rushed back into the house to get away, not sure  
what had happened only that she'd been put in her place and not a word  
was said.

Lori's next move was to fuss over Joe. She was fishing because she  
wanted to get her hands on Benson's $5,000. If Joe had it and did kill  
Benson, she might still get some of it. Lori knew she had a way with  
men, finding their weaknesses and exploiting them from the time that  
she was very young. Since Joe had defended her the night before, maybe  
he was open to inducement in the form of escape. Maybe he'd pay for  
that chance.

"Here," Lori held the canteen for Joe to drink, exuding concern, and a  
little extra¬ availability.

"Thanks," he drank thirsty from the dry night and the hit on the head.  
His hands now secured behind his back, he was in bad shape with a  
growing headache, and a murderer on the loose, likely to kill him so  
others would consider the first murder solved.

"You know, I could help… you," Lori said in a sexy undertone, making  
sure the others weren't listening. Joe regarded her with some  
interest, waiting to hear what she might say. "You helped me. I could  
help you."

"Oh, what did you have in mind?"

"I can help you escape."

"No, I can't do that." Joe saw that coming, too obvious, too direct.  
Lori was not exactly a subtle creature, although she thought she was.

"Sure, sure you could. I'd make it so you could."

"No, Lori, the first thing that would happen is when you all got to  
Owl's Point, they'd telegraph about me to every sheriff." He smiled  
with an amused look at her disappointment, as she realized he  
understood it too. "And no, I don't have the money."

"Oh I know you have to say that, but we could meet up later." She  
purred her sensuality. "I would be so good to you."

"Listen Lori, I didn't do it and don't have the money. Sorry," he  
shrugged with a sigh and a grin. She got up and flounced off. Joe  
watched her thinking maybe she didn't have a hand in it.

Considering each of them, he was narrowing down the possibilities.  
Over by the fireplace, Nora was cooking breakfast from the last  
night's leftovers. In the corner near her, Roberto was stewing with  
the derringer, itching to use it, to prove to Nora that he was a brave  
man. Those two had quite a night of it after they thought everyone  
else was asleep. Benson was right about O'Neill. That man was no  
bartender. Cleaning his gun after yesterday's hunt, O'Neill kept to  
himself in the corner not interfering. But where was Samantha? He had  
an odd feeling about her. Benson was a loud mouth but he was right  
about Samantha being strangely out of place. She had a definite  
connection to O'Neill but that made no sense, a very upper class lady  
with a modest working man. Even as he wondered, she came in with a  
serious look on her face, quickly glancing to place the others and  
slightly nodding to him.

"I brought some wood," she said depositing it next to Nora. "If you  
open the flue, there will be less smoke."

"I don't need some fine lady telling me what to do," Nora said  
ungraciously. Sam leaned over, using a rag to open it before going to  
sit with Joe.

"Let me have a look where he hit you." She reached for his head. Joe  
shied away. Whispering to him, she said, "I know you didn't do it.  
There are no tracks anywhere outside. There was no wind last night. If  
anyone had gone outside I would have seen the prints."

Joe was surprised out of his mind. "You can track?"

"Yes, now turn your head. Oh," she winced. "That's a real ow-ie."

"An ow-ie?" Joe asked skeptically.

"Makes you want to say 'ow.' Anyway, the skin is broken but the blood  
has dried. You have a lump coming up the size of Gibraltar." She  
pushed the hair away. "I can clean it up, but if I do, it will start  
bleeding again. Let me make a bandage."

"Never mind, I'll live."

"As you wish, Mr. Cartwright."

"Miss Carter, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes," she said doubtfully.

"Why do you believe me?"

"You weren't out of control, angry, or fighting to defend yourself.  
There were no signs of a scuffle in here this morning when Nora  
screamed. No. Little Joe Cartwright of the Ponderosa certainly doesn't  
need the money and doesn't kill for petty reasons. Don't worry. I have  
your six." She stood up and walked away to get her breakfast and go  
outside to eat it. Joe stared open mouthed after her. He'd never said  
who he was other than Joe Cartwright, nothing about the Ponderosa.

The exchange wasn't lost on Nora. She became irate. "Those two are  
plotting together. I know it. She hovers over him because she wants  
the money! She's going to help him escape!"

Roberto saw Sam go out the door, thought it over, dismissing the idea.  
"Nora, she's not interested in a common man like that. Signora Carter  
is only being kind as a lady would."

"Lady! Lady! No lady whispers sweet nothings at his kind. She's a  
fake, a fraud. Howard had her pegged. She's not what she seems to be!"

"Do not upset yourself, my dear." He oozed unctuous charm. "She can do  
nothing. I have the guns. He is tied up. Please, my dear," Roberto  
took her hand to soothe her. She responded with a look of love. "Nora,  
you are tired from the upset and the walking. Leave such matters to  
the men and do not distress yourself. I will take care of you."

He said it in such soothing tones, putting his hands on her shoulders,  
as a lover would. Her reaction was immediate. She turned her head up  
to him in adoration. "You mean that?"

"Of course I do. I am the son of a barone. I must protect women from  
the likes of him, especially a lady like yourself."

That was all Nora had to hear, being called a lady by a gentleman. His  
tender tones had her nearly quivering for more. Instead, he gave her  
his plate to fill, and smiled at her with a gentle pat on the shoulder  
in familiarity. She was putty in his hands.

Lori took her plate of food and sat down not too far from Joe. As she  
ate and Nora worked trying to stretch the food with water and leftover  
rabbit bones, Lori considered her next attempt. She was sure Joe had  
the money. Something about him said the man knew how to spend money.  
Lori could sniff a guy like that from across a crowded saloon and had  
many nights. It was true Little Joe spent his money freely, having  
nothing left soon after payday. Heedless of his father's exhortations  
to save a little something, Joe found it ridiculous since his pay as a  
top hand had little relationship to the vast sums that ran through the  
ranch. He had signature on all the accounts so he knew, not that he  
would help himself for personal reasons. He was quite capable of doing  
the management necessary around the men and running financial errands  
for his father as far as San Francisco or Salt Lake City. And when  
push came to shove, he could count on Pa to bail him out of failed  
ventures he schemed with his ever trusting brother Hoss or to buy a  
much needed saddle or other such item, although, it did come with a  
tongue lashing. So yes, Lori smelled money.

"Here," Lori brought Joe a plate of food, feeding him with a spoon,  
jokingly as a mother hen. Nora was put out that Joe was eating their  
food. However, one look from O'Neill made her subside. It still  
rankled. "I'll bet if you offered that O'Neill fellow a share, he'd  
look the other way. He can handle Roberto." She suggested in a whisper.

"Thank you, ma'am." Joe said after finishing the warmed over beans and  
rabbit. "But if I did that, everyone would think I really was guilty."  
He licked away the dribble she left on his lips. "Nice try, really."  
Lori made her little moue for him, giving him no doubt what he could  
get from her. He sighed, looking away.

"That one," Nora hissed, pointing to Lori. "She is planning something.  
She wants the money. Her kind always thinks that way. She wants to  
help him to escape, don't you?"

"Escape?" Lori tried playing dumb. She snorted, standing up to take  
the dish away. "You are hysterical. I simply fed him."

"I saw you whisper to him. You two have Howard's money!"

"Oh for crying out loud, O'Neill growled in irritation over the tawdry  
drama. "Look, the money has to be here somewhere. No one is leaving  
until we find it. Then no one will have a reason to help him escape.  
We'll all watch the money."

"Did he tell you where he hid it, Miss Lori?" Roberto demanded, sadly.  
She shook her head. "Did you offer to help him escape for a share?"  
All eyes swung to her. She debated whether to lie, and went for a  
half-truth instead.

"I … I thought maybe I would help him. I … came … to care for him, but  
no, I won't help a murderer escape." She got up and walked to the  
other side of the room, near the window to stare out.

"I told you I'm not a murderer," Joe protested as the drama spiraled  
out of control. "I don't have the money. Why don't you look around?"

"He is a murderer. I ... I," she seemed to struggle with getting out  
the words not wanting to hurt him and not wanting to be suspect  
either. Turning to the others, she hesitated a beat, and proclaimed  
with righteous indignation, "I saw him do it. He didn't know I was  
awake. But….yes, I saw him do it."

Joe was dumbfounded and crestfallen in his disappointment of her. "Why  
you lying witch." He said heatedly.

"We ought to string him up right here." Nora demanded. "We can't risk  
taking him all the way to Owl's Point. It's another thirty miles. We  
don't have the food or the water."

"We could leave him here," Lori suggested, still thinking she might  
get a share of the money.

"What to escape? His kind always knows how to do that." Nora hissed.  
"He'll follow us and kill us all."

Not about to let them kill the kid, O'Neill pinched his nose in  
frustration, "No one is leaving him to die or killing him."

His tone said it was final. Even Roberto understood the voice of  
command, but was confused that it came so easily from a mere  
bartender. Still, O'Neill's gun was remarkable. Benson was right; the  
man was much more. Maybe this tough guy did it? Roberto got afraid in  
the pit of his stomach. He must be one of those outlaws he'd been  
reading about in the dime novels. Women were always attracted to  
dangerous men. It happened over and over in the penny dreadfuls about  
the West. Now it began to make some sense about the furtive looks and  
whispers with Miss Carter. O'Neill was after Miss Carter's money, just  
as he was after the $5,000, if he could find it.

Nora saw the look Roberto gave O'Neill, then Miss Carter. Her time  
with Benson taught her a little about manipulation. Ah, so O'Neill was  
manipulating Miss Carter. The looks they exchanged, the unspoken  
understanding, now, it made some sense.

"YOU!" Nora exclaimed. "YOU, the one with the big knife and the fancy  
gun, you took it!" She pointed her long cooking spoon at O'Neill. "Why  
doesn't everyone suspect YOU! So quiet, sneaking around, going outside  
to check things, you are not what you seem!" She turned to Sam in the  
doorway, "You dumb high faluting lady." She sneered in her superior  
understanding, seething with contempt for O'Neill. "He's sparking you,  
making promises, but really stealing the money, so he can have more  
from you. He doesn't want you. Can't you see? He wants your money!"

Sam frowned from the doorway. Nora blanched. Something about Sam's  
manner and stance said she meant business. "I've had enough of you."  
She said to Nora. "Conduct a search of the premises. I have found no  
tracks away from here or outside past the trough or the privy. So that  
means it is still here."

"How can we trust you? You were conspiring with him!" Nora said in an  
ugly tone, pointing at O'Neill. She looked at Roberto. "Can you track?"

"I have hunted game, but men, no. Besides, someone has to stay and  
guard him."

Jack considered what they knew so far. If Sam said she checked the  
track, he knew she could and did. He'd check again later,  
surreptitiously. These two were falling apart from the stress. Jack  
figured Lori was looking out for herself, no matter what happened to  
any of them. The kid was tied up and wondering which one of them did  
it. Jack had liked the young man, knowing full well who he had to be  
from Daniel's snooping around Virginia City. It didn't mean a kid  
wouldn't do something stupid out of sheer bad judgment then try a  
bluff. He'd seen it plenty with all the teenagers and young adults in  
the Service. Jack figured Joe for about 21 yrs old, a man in these  
times and sorts of places, but a kid in many ways, emotionally. From  
the previous fight with Benson, Jack knew the kid was impetuous,  
defending Lori. Women like her had handled plenty of Bensons and would  
again. However, Joe murdering a man without provocation didn't track  
with everything else he'd seen the kid do. Still yammering about who  
stole the money, Nora was too insistent, too angry, although she'd had  
a relationship with the dead man, which might explain her agitation.  
After working herself into a fine state, Nora blew her cool completely  
at Sam.

"Search her," Nora demanded. "She's been outside more than anyone."  
The men looked confused. How could they touch a lady? Understanding  
the look, Nora offered heatedly, "Roberto can do it. He's a gentleman."

"Oh I don't think so, bucko," Jack said with menace. "If it's women  
you want searched, you first Miss Whitley. Let's see what you've got  
hidden." Jack motioned to Sam, who advanced on Nora.

"Let's see if we can find a blood stained petticoat or camisole." Sam  
said with a hint of disdain. "Stabbing a man makes the blood spurt  
out. There's such a thing as pressure in the veins as the heart pumps  
it around the body. Release the pressure and it squirts. The person  
who did this will have to have blood on them somewhere."

"I cleaned the rabbits they shot last night," Nora whined. "I had  
blood all over me. YOU," she pointed a finger, "You didn't want to  
lower yourself to do the dirty work. Howard made me." She said in  
fury. "So if you have any on YOU, there's the answer."

"Fine," Sam lifted her dress and showed all four of her petticoats one  
by one, including the stockings. The Roberto and Joe were terribly  
uncomfortable Victorian men seeing a lady expose herself by their  
standards. Then she undid her bodice and displayed her camisole over  
her corset. Buttoning herself up, she stood tall and proud. "Now  
that's settled, let's see Lori's."

With a lewd grin, Lori did the same. She had dirty petticoats at the  
hem but not a spot of blood other than the small one from her leg  
wound. "Now that you gentlemen have had your entertainment, let's see  
yours." Lori's crooked half-smile didn't hide any of her amusement.

Roberto was outraged. Still there was no help for it. Acquiescing to  
Sam's outstretched hands for the guns, Roberto saw the authoritative  
manner of his mother, who really scared him. Sam, Lori, and Nora  
inspected Roberto's clothing, which was clean with no blood other than  
a small spot on his elbow where he had been injured. Without protest,  
O'Neill did the same. He was clean to their surprise.

"What no ring around the collar?" He joked. Sam bit her lip to keep  
from laughing out loud over the old TV commercial for laundry  
detergent. "Hey, I separate my whites from the colors." His eyes  
sparkled for Sam in private understanding.

"It just means he's got a hole outside he's hiding the money in," Nora  
accused.

"That's 'a hole "in which" he's hiding the money,' and no I'm not."  
Jack cocked his head having got one off at Nora's expense. She was  
really a pompous prissy old maid. "Search the kid," Jack ordered Roberto.

All eyes turned to Joe. Roberto roughly undid Joe's clothing and found  
nothing other than a smear from the rabbits on his hip, which they had  
noticed the night before.

"So to recap," Sam said evenly. "The only person with blood on her  
person in sufficient quantity is Nora." Everyone stared at her the  
dark stains on her hems and smears on her skirt. "Now maybe it was  
from the rabbits and maybe not. At least we know the rest of us would  
have had to be naked when murdering Benson."

"You are very clever, Signora," Roberto bowed to her.

"Miss Hayden," Sam said with slight irony in her voice. "If you saw  
the murder when it happened, why did you forget to mention that Mr.  
Cartwright was buck naked when he slew Mr. Benson as you watched? He  
is so terribly attractive. I know I would have stared." She eyed Lori  
with disdain. Even Little Joe couldn't help smirking at that remark.

"It was dark. I didn't know he was naked."

"Oh come now, you certainly would have noticed him undress, slay, and  
dress again after washing up of course. Only, that's right, there were  
no tracks in the morning and no blood out by the horse trough or on  
Mr. Cartwright's feet. Wait, we didn't look at his feet. What  
murdering opportunist would remember to wipe off his feet? If there is  
even a little blood under the toenails, we should check for it." She  
pointed at the offending boots. "Mr. O'Neill, please remove Mr.  
Cartwright's boots and socks."

Enjoying the Agatha Christie moment, O'Neill was only too glad to do her  
bidding. Sure enough, Joe's feet were spotless of blood yet dirty and  
smelly enough to indicate he hadn't washed them at all.

"Cool boots, Tony Llama?" Jack inquired not expecting Joe to react.

"Uh, no, buckskin," Joe said, confused anyone would ask at a time like  
that. Jack winked at him almost imperceptibly, throwing Joe off  
balance for a moment, but it got his sense of the absurd working,  
again. A puppy dog look at Jack came over the young man. Someone else  
was on his side and boy was he surprised.

"What's next Miss Marple?" Jack said sotto voce to Sam.

"Miss Marple? I thought her name was Miss Carter," Nora sputtered.

"And she knows it was Professor Plum in the Study with… the  
…candlestick!" Jack bowed to Nora, leaving her dumbfounded.

"Elementary my dear Watson," Sam muttered for Jack.

"His name is really Watson?" Roberto didn't get it.

"You figure that out by yourself, Sherlock?"

"Neither of you make any sense, none at all," Roberto growled  
realizing they were making fun of him and Nora.

"It's gotten to be a regular "whodunit." Can we get on with this  
puh-leeze Carter? It's the fourth act and we are all in the parlor."

"Actually sir, it's a howdunit, an inverted whodunit, sort of a  
Columbo type effort to figure it all out."

"Just one more thing," Jack said to Nora.

"Sir…," Carter shook her head. Even Jack's jests did not divert Sam on  
her sleuthing quest. Taking out her pocketknife, she showed them the  
blade. Dipping it in hot coffee from breakfast, she proceeded to sit  
down with a clean bit of cloth to wipe it and then show it to  
everyone. They all agreed it was clean. Then she sat to scrape under  
his toenails, wiping the detritus on the clean cloth for inspection  
before doing the same under his fingernails. Nothing she removed was  
remotely like blood. Taking some water, she put the bit of cloth in it  
to see if it would dissolve into blood. Explaining what she did and  
why, causing everyone to agree there was no blood.

"While toe jam is not my favorite forensic evidence," she said  
seriously. "I think we should all submit to a collection of it. Mr.  
O'Neill, please bring me the hot coffee in a new cup. I wish to clean  
the blade between uses. And then remove your own boots and socks."

She shot a wink at Joe who was now enjoying the proceedings immensely.  
He had to suppress a smile, turning his head away and down lest he  
incite the others. Each time she finished with a person, she cleaned  
the blade in the hot water and let the others examine it so there was  
no doubt it was clean and the only matter next appearing was from the  
next subject. Dipping each collection in water, they saw no blood.  
Finally, it was Nora's turn. She backed away.

"That doesn't prove anything. I told you I was cleaning the rabbits."

"In your bare feet?" Lori was incredulous. "I was there. You wore shoes."

"Miss Whitley, we have all done it." O'Neill said sternly. "Either the  
rabbit blood is on your shoes or your feet or both."

"It's not proper. I told you she was a fraud. No lady would expose her  
limbs as she has. If she could think of all these things, maybe she  
did it!"

"If that's true," Joe said from the floor, "You have nothing to worry  
about."

"Nora," Roberto said gently. "Under the circumstances I must insist.  
How can I marry you if there is even a hint of suspicion?"

"NO!" Nora backed into the corner. Lori tackled her and pulled off a  
shoe and then a sock with O'Neill holding the struggling woman's arms.  
Sure enough, there was blood on the socks and inside the shoes. There  
was dried blood under her toenails. Her hems were drenched in dark  
stains which when put in cold water yielded blood.

"Nora, you held those rabbits away from you on the log." Lori  
announced. "There is no way this much blood got inside your shoes. I  
know you skinned them outside and you wore shoes."

Lori stepped away. O'Neill kept a firm grip on Nora who was realizing  
Sam outwitted her. She lost her control, spewing venom at everyone and  
feeling herself the righteous victim in a psychotic way.

"That's right. I killed him, but not … not for the money. NO not for  
the money, BECAUSE there was no money! Howard liked to sound  
important. He made it all up. He had thirty dollars on him. That's  
all. It was in the jerky bag. I did not kill him for the money! There  
was no money." She kept repeating it. "He was just like every other  
man. He didn't want me. He used me. He was going to throw me away,"  
she gave Lori a look of hatred, "For that whore… and …. I couldn't  
allow it."

"You hid the money, Nora." Roberto said sternly. "Tell us where you  
hid the money."

"There is no money." She looked at him in horror. "You! You only wooed  
me to get the money. You thought I had the money!" She lunged at him.  
In the struggle, the little gun went off. Nora slumped to the ground,  
surprised.

Roberto knelt to hold her and comfort her, seemingly horrified. "I  
love you so much, my dear, oh Nora." He nuzzled her as her face  
changed to adoration. "Tell us my dear, what you did with the money."

"You knew!" Her face changed back in an instant. "You knew I did it  
the whole time?"

"Yes, I knew, but it didn't matter." Trying to manipulate her  
emotions, he held her against him, trying to comfort her and end the  
matter. "Where did you hide the money?"

"There isn't any money. You only wanted me for the money." She smiled  
in realization, laughing at herself. Suddenly, a gunshot went off and  
Roberto crumpled. Nora had found the derringer in his pocket and  
killed him too. "They never loved me." She said idly, and died.

Sam went to Little Joe and cut him free. Rubbing his wrists, he  
surveyed the death scene and shook his head as he walked outside to  
breathe clean air. The stench of death was overwhelming inside. Sam  
took the guns and knives away, joining Joe at the trough. After he  
washed up and took care of his needs, he came to her at the fence.  
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around to look at  
her. His eyes held his gratitude.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

He searched her face not sure what to say. She smiled at him ruefully  
and looked down. He took her chin with one finger and lifter her face  
to meet his eyes. She blinked.

"Who are you?"

"Your guardian angel?" She joked.

"I could believe that, except for this." He leaned in to kiss her. She  
responded fully before stepping away.

"It's time to go."

"Yes, we should leave this place. We have a few more hours of light.  
We can make another five or so miles." Joe realized something. "How  
did you know I'm from the Ponderosa?"

"Oh …." She smiled, ruefully and shrugged. "A little birdie told me."

"And you knew the whole time I didn't do it?"

"I know who you are. You couldn't have done it."

"Ma'am, when we get to Virginia City, let me show my appreciation.  
Come stay with us at the Ponderosa before you continue on." He thought  
for a moment. "Where are you going?"

"First star on the right, then straight on 'til morning." She stepped  
back.

"What …?"

"What she means is we have to follow the Yellow Brick Road, Mr.  
Cartwright." Jack said coming up behind her.

"You two do know each other." Joe nodded understanding all the looks.  
"Then, let me extend the invitation to you both." He said courteously.

"That would be nice," Jack said politely. "However, we have friends  
waiting for us there."

"If you change your mind, you are most welcome."

"Sir, I think once we complete our repairs, we should visit with the  
Cartwrights. One can never have too many friends," she gave Jack a  
look to say they would be influence they could use.

"Well, then, we accept, Mr. Cartwright."

"That's great. We'll put on a BBQ and even a party for you."

"A party you say," Jack smiled in anticipation. "Will there be…cake?"  
He smiled his pleased with himself smirk. Sam did chortle on that one.  
Joe looked to each of them, knowing it was a private joke. "Well then,  
it's off to see the wizard."

Sam suppressed a smirk.

"The wizard?" Joe asked not getting the joke.

"Ah, well, it's a long story about four people going on a journey on  
foot," he looked at Lori. "Rather like us, wouldn't you say Miss Carter?"

"Yes sir, just like that. In any case, I think we just got through the  
poppy field." She went to pack some food and fill the canteens.

"So, Miss Hayden, ever heard the story of the Wizard of Oz?" Jack felt  
like the tide had turned. She said no, realizing the big handsome man  
was flirting with her.

"No, do tell, Mr. O'Neill."

"Jack, call me Jack."

"Lori."

"Joe."

"Sam, come on! Fifty klicks…nothing to it!"

"Coming, sir~!"

"You two do know each other!" Lori exclaimed. "And… I'm betting you're  
not a bartender." She studied him. "A soldier, weren't you?"

"No, but I play one on TV."

It took three more days of hard slogging through alkali sand and  
cactus, but they made it to Owl's Point in time to meet the posse  
gathered to find them. Hoss was there to lead the posse. If his little  
brother was missing, Hoss was going to find him. A couple days more  
and they were in Virginia City to meet Daniel and Teal'c with the  
missing parts. Agreeing to come to the ranch after they had rested and  
changed, the Team went out to make repairs to the DHD next to the  
Stargate up a box canyon. What they didn't see was Joe and Hoss on the  
ridge over the canyon where the Stargate stood hidden against the rock  
face wall. Curious where their new friends were going, leaving in the  
dead of night, the Cartwrights tracked them out of town under a full moon. It was  
nearly as bright as daylight. To the Hoss and Joe's surprise, the four people  
halted near a strange pit with something in it. They spent some time there  
watching as the woman worked on the item, wondering what she was  
doing.

After Carter fixed the DHD, Jack decided to send Daniel and Teal'c  
back to tell the General everyone was fine and that Sam and he were  
staying to make some important contacts. To the Cartwright's surprise,  
they saw the Stargate engage, sending the energy vortex shooting out  
and form an upright pool of shining water inside the big ring. Two men  
walked into the water and disappeared into the rock embedding the  
ring. As soon as the men entered the standing water, it disappeared,  
leaving their friends below alone.

"Hoss?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you see leprechauns," he gave a pinched look at Hoss, reminding him  
of the time his brother thought he saw leprechauns running around the ranch. "I'm  
going to believe you."

"I'll hold you to that, Little Joe. Giddyap."


End file.
